Melancholy Kitchen
by AntisocialAnimeFreak
Summary: England has come to realise just how bad his cooking is and is feeling really down and refuses to cook or eat anything, but luckily he can count on America to cheer him up. This oneshot is based on the song Melancholy Kitchen by Kenshi Yonezu. When I first read the English lyrics, I thought of hetalia, and so I've ended up writing this.


England placed his glass of whatever was left of his alcoholic beverage on the table and let out a drunken moan. Running his fingers through his messy blonde hair, he thought about his cooking, his terrible cooking. He then thought about America and how he always ate what he cooked when he was young. England couldn't understand how America could have put up with eating something so disgusting, but then remembered that the fool constantly stuffs his face with junk food. He could only assume he was to blame for America's bad taste. The more he thought of America, the smaller England felt, especially when he started recalling America's independence. Remembering all the worthless quarrels they had and the tears that were shed, England felt as though he could start crying. Walking into the kitchen to get a glass of water, England looked at the oven and let out a sigh.

"I should probably stop cooking if I'm no good," England spoke as he glanced around the kitchen. "I don't think I have much food in right now anyway, so at least I'm not letting anything go to waste."

After having a glass of water to hydrate himself, England headed to his bedroom and went to sleep. In the morning he woke up with a bit of a hangover. He didn't think he had drunk much the previous night, and he could still remember everything after all. Going to the kitchen, he made some toast; it didn't really count as cooking since he just placed a couple of slices of bread in the toaster. He made tea and spread marmite over his toast once it had cooked in the toaster.

"Surely my marmite isn't all that bad is it?" he asked himself before taking a bit out of his toast. Munching on his breakfast, he came to a solid conclusion. "There really isn't anything wrong with the taste of marmite, but then again I guess you either love it or you hate it."

Sipping his tea, England relaxed and decided to just have a really laid back day. When it reached lunch time, he didn't bother eating anything; neither did he eat anything for dinner. Days passed, and England had been sitting all alone in his home, not really doing much, and not eating anything. He still drank tea everyday as he knew he made great tea.

About a week after his decision to stop cooking, there was a knock on England's door. England opened the door, and saw America before him.

"What are you doing here?" England asked, sounding really grumpy.

"I hadn't heard much from you for a while, so I thought I'd surprise you with a visit," America said cheerfully before getting a good look at England.

England looked really weak, pale and skinny; it was clear he'd not been eating well. Even his hair was looking slightly thinner as if it had been falling out. His eyebrows were as thick as usual though.

"England, you don't look so good," America said. "Dude, you probably eat something; that'll make you feel better."

"My cooking isn't any good, so what's the point?" England sighed.

"Hahaha, so you finally realised?" America laughed before realising it was really insensitive of him. "Wait, don't tell me you've not been eating at all?!" America was very surprised that England would treat his health so poorly and offered him a hamburger. "Here, eat this. Even if you're not going to cook, you still have to eat."

"I don't want any of that trash you eat," England scowled.

"You have to eat something or you'll feel even worse. Should I ask France to cook-"

"Don't even think about calling that frog!" England snapped, not allowing America to finish. "If he knew what I was going through right now I'd never live it down. You're lucky I'm even admitting to you that my cooking is bad. I don't know how you put up with it when you were young."

"Maybe I'm just immune to your bad cooking," America said. "I bet if you were to cook something right now, I'd have no problem eating it."

"I doubt that," England said with a depressed tone to his voice.

"Well maybe not scones because those honestly do taste like charcoal. But anything else I'm sure won't be too bad," America smiled.

"It's hard to tell if you're trying to cheer me up or just insult my cooking more," England sighed.

"Of course I want to cheer you up, that's what heroes are for when they're not busy saving the world," America boasted. "If you're not going to cook for yourself, then at least cook for me and I'll prove to you that your food is edible!"

"If you end up with food poisoning, you have yourself to blame," England grumbled as he made his way to the kitchen. "I guess I have the ingredients to make some beef stew."

It felt as though there was an incurable gloom lingering in the room as he cooked. He swore to himself that if he could cast a spell to make the world anew, he would make himself a nation with great cooking skills. Once England was done cooking, he served up one bowl of the beef stew for America and placed it on the table in front of America.

"Didn't you make any for yourself?" America sounded concerned. "You really need to eat something."

"There is some leftover, but I've made this for you, so I'm not going to eat any," England replied, being stubborn.

Scooping out the first mouthful of food, America offered it to England, but he turned his head and continued to refuse to eat. England watched as America chewed the food with a foolish smile on his face as if it was tasty and gulped it down. He couldn't believe America was actually eating his disgusting food, and was surprised to hear America _thank_ him for the food when he finished.

"It wasn't that bad," America was still smiling. "You should really eat some and feel better."

"You're lying," England frowned. "It was really disgusting wasn't it?"

"Don't put yourself down like that, it really didn't taste bad."

"Whatever," England said letting out another sigh. "How long were you planning to stay here anyway?"

"Just visiting for the day, but I feel it's my duty to stay until you eat something now."

"That's not happening, so you should probably head back soon."

"Sounds like you're trying to get rid of me," America complained. "But I'll go soon."

England went to the kitchen to do the washing up, and as he was half way through washing, America announced that he was going to leave. He let himself out and England continued to wash up. Once he was finished cleaning in the kitchen, he walked into the living room and noticed a packet of cherry flavoured bonbons had been left, clearly by America on his table, possibly as a way to tempt him to eat. England had to admit he was starting to feel hungry after being exposed to food.

Walked over to the kitchen once more, England filled the bowl he had just washed with the extra beef stew he had cooked. Sitting down and taking a bite, he realised that his cooking really wasn't that bad; if he at least enjoyed his food, then it didn't matter that it wasn't the greatest tasting food in the world.

England let the corners of his lips raise a little into a calm smile. He was unsure if America had any idea just how much he had saved England; how much of a hero he really was, and England hoped that the next time they were to see each other that he would be able to put into words just how thankful he is.

He actually baked scones to give to America to express his gratitude; they were burnt as usual and they definitely tasted like charcoal.

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><p><strong>AN: As an English person who sucks at cooking, I really feel for England. I admit there are days that I skip dinner or just eat marmite on toast because I really don't want to cook anything. Living on marmite on toast and tea isn't exactly the best diet for me to have though. **


End file.
